


intoxicated, it's true, when i'm with you

by zenturies



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Smut, Top!Liam, blame mind of mine, bottom!Zayn, this is literally just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenturies/pseuds/zenturies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may love Zayn hard in a blazing haze of multicolours and kisses that sting when they've been arguing over something silly in expensive hotel rooms, but he likes him soft, pulls him apart when he needs it the most.</p>
<p>Or, the one in which Liam shows Zayn just how proud he really is and Zayn's more than willing to let his lyrics come to life. Somewhat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	intoxicated, it's true, when i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> Mind of Mine happened .... TiO and dRuNk killed me ... I went to hell and there, my soul resurrected at 12am and produced this piece of garbage at 4am. Goodbye.
> 
> Dedicated to everyone who's still an emotional wreck over M.O.M. 
> 
> P.S I realised it's impossible for me not to write ziam smut w/o a smidgen of praise kink lodged somewhere in there, even if it's just a tiny bit. Title taken from dRuNk by Zayn. All mistakes are mine and I apologise if you come across any.
> 
> P.S.S This is more of a drabble than anything else bc I have other priorities in terms of fics and idk if it makes sense or flows right bc I wrote it on my phone and my mind's still all agfkmifbkj, but you knOW WHAT?? I had to get this out of my system or it'd haunt me for the rest of my life.

If Zayn had to have a favourite Liam, it'd be _this_ Liam— possessive hands gripping his bare hips, fingers crooking to ensure the confidential promise of bruising with a hundred meanings as familiar lips skim across the valley of his neck.

They've been drinking a bit, both have Smirnoff-stained tongues and the hammering of their hearts match the beat of a melody meant for the vicinity of their ears only as their chests glide together and then Liam's tugging him forward by his waist, just as he departs, wandering backwards with expert footsteps and alluring eyes.

"Sing the song," Liam whispers huskily, his hands gravitating towards the circular button of Zayn's ripped-at-the-knee skinnies.

Zayn freezes, shoulders tensing for a split second because even though his album took off, sky rocketed its way into a million hearts, timidness has a horrible tendency of kicking in and being jittery with nerves is something he knows extremely well, especially when someone asks him to sing— especially when it's _Liam_ , asking him to pour lyrics from his lips that sounds a lot like hushed _I love you's_ in the middle of the night, when they're basking in the shadows pillow talk. The song radiates with the damn beautiful essence of them, from the beginning of eternity, spitting out secrets in the form of captivating lyrics and a sensual beat that reminds him of nothing but _Liam_. 

"Sing it f'r me, babe," Liam murmurs again as he unbuttons Zayn's jeans, his teeth nibbling at the side of Zayn's neck.

"Which one?" Zayn asks, a little breathlessly, because he'd do everything and anything for Liam.

Liam licks a filthily stripe along the column of Zayn's neck that emits a raw groan from low within Zayn's throat before he's craning his head back, their eyes locking in a lust-filled stare. "You know which one," he says and it surprises Zayn how deep Liam's voice has gotten since they'd stumbled into Zayn's house, high on nothing but each others cigarette lips.

" _Push me up against the wall, don't take it easy_ —"

The sudden force of Liam pushing Zayn against the hallway wall, strangles the lyrics in his throat silent. Fire simmers over his skin, making his flesh hot, hot, _hot_ , and he knows every patch of skin Liam touches will flare up, leaving arousal in its wake.

"Y'wanna me to watch me take off all my clothes, huh?" Liam taunts, nimble fingers gliding over the hem of his jeans before he's opting to envelope his fingers around Zayn's wrists, pinning them above his head, the pads of his fingers digging into his pressure point lightly.

A gasp falls between the gap of Zayn's lips when they part, only managing a weak not of the head. His mind in spinning in circles, rotating with a billion erotic thoughts zinging through his brain because Liam's just— Liam's something else. Incredible, sinful,  _sinisterly_ disastrous in the best way, drowning Zayn in a kaleidoscope of colours and suffocating him with the kind of love that makes Zayn proud to call Liam _his_.

"Y'sure I like it hard like you?" Liam murmurs, slotting his leg between Zayn's thighs. His eyes are focused, zeroing in on Zayn like he's worshiping his prey right before he devours him.

Zayn licks his lower lip, whispering out a quiet, " _I know you do, Li,_ " and it's only then he realises how painfully hard he is, cock confined by the material of his jeans, his hips instinctively rocking forward, rubbing his length against Liam's leg. He's chasing delicious friction, an illusion that lasts a lifetime if he's in Liam's talented hands.

( He doesn't want this illusion to ever end. )

A smirk soothes over Liam's lips, the palms of his hands sweating slightly against the flesh of Zayn's wrists. "Y'don't want me to take it easy, babe?"

"I just wanna watch you take it off," Zayn mumbles out his own lyrics, a disapproving whine radiating from his mouth when Liam retracts his leg, Zayn's hips following in suit. Desperation rivers through his bones, sparking at the arousal already ignited, shooting straight for his cock. 

Liam swallows when his eyes darken, transforms into a darker shade of honey and if Zayn looked closely, he'd see the wicked thoughts swimming around in them. "Y'know, I'd strip f'r you, but I kinda wanna fuck you right now, make you come like you deserve 'cause you're my good boy."

Zayn whines, words prompting his dick to twitch. His hands slump against the back of Liam's hand above his head, nails skating across the skin. "Baby—"

"Dirty and raw, take it off, drunk all summer— so fuckin' poetic when it comes to sex." Liam compliments, offering a laugh and a gentle tap against Zayn's hip with his free hand because Zayn knows even though Liam's more on the dominant side, softness never leaves his features, his voice, or his touches. "Turn around, darling."

( He may love Zayn hard in a blazing haze of multicolours and kisses that _sting_ when they've been arguing over something silly in expensive hotel rooms, but he likes him soft, pulls him apart when he needs it the most. )

Zayn twists his body the second Liam lets go of his wrists, his palms splayed flat against the wall, fingers curled. 

"You trying to tell people our life story?" Liam asks as he yanks Zayn's zipper down and there's a brief moment where Zayn thinks his trousers are going to accompany the carpet underneath his feet, but then Liam's hands are smoothing over Zayn's back, just _feeling_ as he waits for an answer.

"Maybe," Zayn responds after a beat. His heart thumps a booming rhythm against his chest, fingers trembling with the type of anticipation that chokes his introverted aspects away for a night, whether it be an hour or half, he doesn't _care_. Can't bring himself to when Liam's hands are on his jeans, dragging them down his legs and his fingertips burn something holy into his thighs when they skate over Zayn's skin. His boxers are quick to rush after them and Zayn's thankful when his cock hangs heavy between his legs, precome oozing at the tip.

"You've watched me take off my clothes before, Zayn. S'that where the inspiration came from, hm?" Liam wonders, bringing his hand around to Zayn's mouth as Zayn turns his head to look back at Liam, eyes lit up with the sort of mischief made for renegades before he's wrapping his lips around Liam's index finger with a moan confirming Liam's thoughts, expert tongue licking over his finger like he's _greedy_ for it.

( Greedy for every inch of Liam, more like. )

Zayn spends a good minute or so, soaking Liam's finger with his spit, swivels his perfect pink tongue around the digit, gulps around it because he can and the fact that Liam's watching him, fascinated and intoxicated, it spurs him on and then licking turns into _sucking_. It's dirty, something he wouldn't normally do because the overflowing lube sitting in his suitcase screams for them in moments like this and he can't deny the tsunami of addicting chills it sends darting through his spine when Liam tilts the bottle, lets it dribble onto his hole, down his thighs until he's drenched. 

"Look at you." Liam's voice drones out the roaring in Zayn's ears, but it doesn't help with how fucking turned on he is. "Showing off a bit, aren't we?"

Zayn blinks up at him, secures their gazes in a menacing stare when he moans, pushing his bum back against Liam's cock. It mimics Zayn's own — hard, most likely leaking, probably dark crimson at the tip. 

"That's enough, baby," Liam whispers and Zayn can tell Liam's reluctant to withdraw his hand from the wavering of his fingers, but he does, anyway, and rewards Zayn with a zealous kiss that has them both grinning and Zayn's eyes fluttering shut, lashes fanning something beautiful across his cheeks when Liam lets his hands pull Zayn's cheeks apart. 

" _Leeyum_ —"

"You taste link pink Lucozade." Liam comments, his index finger roaming over Zayn's puckered rim, allowing the residue of saliva to spread across his entrance. "Been drinkin' a bottle before I came?" 

Zayn nods, a breathless whimper soaring from his throat and into the open when Liam pushes in the tip of his finger without any warning. His hole's resistant, but Zayn's body is a welcoming wonderland and he finds himself pressing back before Liam's even got a full finger in and in return, Liam curves his finger, speeds up the process a little faster by working a finger into him within seconds. The shakiness of his hand, body blazing behind him, tells Zayn that Liam's just as eager to fuck into him like it's their last night together, like the world's going to get a whole new level of hectic after Zayn steps out into the universe with a fresh-found confidence that glimmers ideas for a new song, a new album. 

The burn's there and it's fierce, plucks at the stretching of his rim, but it's soon clouded with the dragging sensation of Liam's skillful finger, enticing broken grunts from Zayn's lips and his body slouches a little when the pad of Liam's finger roams over the bundle of nerves that Liam's an expert at tormenting when they're in bed and they're too lazy to fuck so instead, Liam fingers him until Zayn's nothing but a moaning mess, untamable, wild, writhing against the sheets.

( Liam's the only one who gets to see him like that and Zayn tells the world about it in the silhouette of lyrics. )

Speaking of Liam, he's got an auxiliary hand on Zayn's hip, supporting him as he works him open and it's not long before he's inserting his middle finger into him, the movement of his arm a blur when Zayn glances over his shoulder in an attempt to get a cheeky peek.

"Fuck, Liam," Zayn whimpers, his back arching and his own hands have clenched into fists against the wall, his brows furrowed together like he isn't fond of the twinge in his legs and the widening of his hole, but he is, he really fucking is. His thighs are tense, trembling with a biting ache that makes it difficult to stand, but it's worth it when he feels his rim expanding, allowing Liam's fingers to slip in easily, quicker, faster.

"If only people could see you now." Liam mumbles, his lips embracing the flesh of Zayn's neck once again. "I wonder what they'd think if they knew I could make you weak with one, simple touch, whether it be with my fingers— or my cock. What about my lips, babe? Do my lips make you weak too?"

Zayn makes a noise that shudders through the knobs of his spine because _yes_ , Liam's lips make him weak, but Liam, _all_ of Liam, makes him strong and Zayn decides that he's met his greatest weaknesses of loving when they were both just teenagers, fonding over each other from afar, and somewhere between a hundred kisses exchanged years later, he's greeted by love in an entirely new light. Also, the idea of people knowing how submissive he can be— high to low, commanding to complaint, fuels the urge to reach down with his right hand to fist at his dick, but before he can, Liam's grabbing his wrist, grumbling something incoherent, muffled against the back of Zayn's neck.

"What did you say?" Zayn questions, tripling the volume of his voice with a rather loud moan when Liam rubs tender circles at his prostate, his warm breath ghosting over Zayn's shoulder.

Liam rests his chin on his head, tucks his lower lip between his teeth. It's wet, rose red and chapped and Zayn wants to nibble at it until it's bleeding and then he wants to calm the ache with his tongue and sweet nothings. "I said I want you to keep your hands on the wall. Y'aren't gonna be touchin' yourself tonight. Want you to focus on me 'nd my cock, alright? Let me do all the work. Let me show you how proud I am of you."

Liam floods like veins like a supernova in that moment and Zayn feels like his heart might explode. He doesn't have time to dwell on the thoughts though— thoughts of what _he's_ going to do to _Liam_  when the hype dies down and it's just _them_ andtheir bed back in the United Kingdom because Liam's removing his fingers and Zayn briefly hears the sound of Liam's zipper and the sound of denim being shoved downwards. That's what makes Zayn's fingers part, palms resting flat against the solid wall, painted a light white, and his legs span, feet apart, toes curling in his shoes.

( They must look ridiculous— jeans and underwear puddling at their feet, shoes still on, shirts somewhere in the room, but it's okay. It's _okay_ because Liam's here and Zayn's mind is in a fritz and everything's fucking _amazing_. All he sees is red, red, red. He's buzzing. )

"Y'wanna get me wet a bit?" Liam asks from behind him and Zayn can hear the slick sound of Liam pumping his cock, working a hand over himself, probably glazing his entire length with precome and sweat and god, that shouldn't sound appealing, but it does. 

He's about to respond with a choked _yes_ when Liam rubs the tip of his cock against Zayn's rim, completely driving his intentions of sucking Liam off until all the bloke's vocabulary consisted of is Zayn's name and groans that Zayn's heard before; he'll never get exhausted of Liam's voice or the sounds he makes. Instead, Zayn pushes back against him as Liam's fingers fly over his hip, silently breaking the morals they've spent so long constructing. Now's not the time to chase after rules that put restrictions on devilish eyes, past midnight. 

"Okay, baby, okay," Liam coos, pressing a soft kiss against Zayn's jaw before he's pushing into him, slow, but there's strength in the way his hips work past the hint of resistance.

Zayn garbles out something terrible because Liam's so fucking _calculated_ when it comes to how he moves his hips — eases in at first, builds up a rhythm Zayn's labelled as their own, and then just goes for it, relentless, a bit reckless, but the kind of reckless Zayn's addicted to.

( One time, when Liam had a head full of curls and Zayn was obsessed with perfecting his quiff, he'd hitched Zayn's legs up against his chest, told him to _be a good boy_ , and fucked him harder than Zayn's ever took it before, didn't let him come for a good half an hour. He'd only complied because he couldn't exactly say _no_ to Liam with bright eyes and such a youthful face, could he? )

"Love how tight you are, Zayn, _shit_ ," Liam breathes out, his breath flowing directly across the top of Zayn's spine, making him _shiver_.

Zayn nods, a bit helpless, if he's being truthful. "S'been a while, Payno." He chuckles, rough and rugged, but it soon transmits into a groan of approval when Liam's buried deep, stretching Zayn for all he's worth, bottoming out. His cheeks are snug against Liam's pelvis, and he can't help but grind his hips a little, pretending the burn doesn't exist like the scorching fire beaming through his veins. Indivisible to the naked eye, but god, he feels it and he _knows_ Liam feels it too.

"Y'gonna sing for me after I fuck you?" Liam questions, flexing his fingers against Zayn's hips, a noiseless demand of _keep your hips still_. 

"Yeah, Li, I'll sing for ya," Zayn accepts, sighing in contentment seconds later as he settles back against Liam's chest. He could turn around, suggest Liam hoist him up and wrap his legs around his waist, use his ankles to lock them in place, but he doesn't. Doesn't because Liam's in charge tonight and what Liam says, goes.

When Liam drags his hips back, the movement of his cock is violently piercing, makes Zayn hiss through gritted teeth. It's irritating, having to wait a bit until the pain fades, but he doesn't complain. Not when Liam's pushing back in, rolling his hips in a slow, tentative manner, puncturing the pain with determined motions and a comforting hand, palm flat against Zayn's stomach. 

It isn't too long after that, that Liam finds the rhythm he's been searching for, eager to get his hands on. He rocks into Zayn, blunt nails scraping softly against his tummy, assembles some kind of pattern of dicking into him at an inaudible beat playing over and over again in his head.

Sometimes, when they fuck, they fuck hard, speedy, viciously.

Other times, it's mellow, a calm wave because they don't always have the time in the world to scope each others bodies with wandering hands and hungry eyes. 

"Mm, _Liam_ ," Zayn hums, doing his best to balance himself as Liam fucks into him from behind. It's mad, how he can already feel the bruises rallying on his hips from the way Liam's gripping onto him with his left hand, fingers heavy, and when his lips skate across his shoulder, teeth just barely catching into the tanned skin, he mentally curses himself for not making an album sooner.

"So good, Zayn," Liam murmurs, dicks into Zayn a bit deeper than what the lad was expecting, frantic.

His words are a jumbled mess, perched on the tip of his tongue and Zayn tries to get them out, praise Liam for being just as good when Liam begins to really go at it, fluid movements be gone, replaced with callous motions of moving hips, panting against Zayn's neck.

Liam's cruel with the way he rocks his hips, so much so, Zayn almost looses balance until Liam's arm strains to hold him up, fingers curving against his stomach. 

Zayn's leaking, dripping onto the carpet beneath his feet, and all he wants to do is tug at his cock, put on a proper show for Liam, get _him_ all wound up and make _his_ head spin and when he looks back, Liam's hot breath streaming over his face, features contorting into pleasure as the tip of Liam's cock screws over Zayn's prostate. 

"Y'like that, babe? Want me to slow down? Or keep doing what I'm doing?" Liam's voice struggles to seep through Zayn's loud moans and the raw sound of skin smacking against skin, but Zayn shakes his head, a little too swiftly, making himself go dizzy.

" _Leeyum_ , don't— keep going— please, _please_ ," Zayn begs, fucking himself the best he can down on Liam's cock, clenching around him.

Liam groans, dips his head forward, his lips streeling over Zayn's cheek. "That's it, good lad. Keep clenchin' 'round me, _c'mon_."

Even though every bone in Zayn's body hurts, attempts to puncture every inch of pleasure that goes straight to his cock, the burn has evaporated and Liam fucks him into a euphoric state of bliss and Zayn awards him by squeezing around his cock, brutishly, persuading a gruff moan from Liam. 

"Y'like takin' it hard, don't you?" Liam whispers, bites down on Zayn's shoulder. There's a layer of sweat shining along Zayn's back, rubbing off on Liam's chest, but neither of them give a fuck — not when Liam's _actually_ giving a fuck. "S'what the song's about, right? That 'nd fuckin' showing how submissive y'can be f'r me without really announcing it to the world. Except, no one knows it's me. It's our filthy little secret, isn't it?"

Zayn loses his composure at that, knees almost giving out as his back arches, slamming his hands on the wall with bent fingers — looking for something to hold onto, anything, but then he realises he doesn't need to hold onto something because Liam will catch him if he falls. Liam _always_ catches him. He barks out a, " _yes, Liam, fuck,_ " before he's coming in thick strips of white, cock untouched and his mind fuzzing, fogging with _Liam_ as he clenches around him, unforgiving and harsh, swallowing his prick down as Liam fucks him through it, heedless and hastily.

"Shit, _Zayn_ , that's it, babe, _fuck_ ," Liam groans, latching his teeth onto Zayn's shoulder and bites down hard as he comes, spilling out inside of Zayn because he knows Zayn likes to have a little play, a little feel, when his come drizzles, covering his thighs in milky white — but only when he's turned on to the extreme, only when he can fuck himself down on Liam's cock for hours and hours and hours, well into the middle of the night. Sure, they take breaks in between because even Liam hasn't got that much stamina, but it's nice, sometimes, to see how long they can fuck for.

( It's the intimacy of sex that they both fall in love with. Well, _that_ and each other. )

Zayn flops against the wall, face twisted to the side, cheek against the paint as Liam nuzzles at his neck, rubbing over his hips with placid hands, clammy with sweat twirling in the center of his palms.

"So, M'guessin' you liked the album then?" Zayn chuckles breathlessly, lungs still lacking oxygen. His body's sore, the lightweight ache in his bones intensifying when Liam pulls out, apologises with an open-mouthed kiss against his shoulder.

Liam snorts, nose nestling into the crook of Zayn's neck, breathing him _in_. "Fuckin' loved it, babe. S'good. M'so proud of you, you have no idea, like."

Hearing those words come from Liam's heart ejects elation and relief in the midst of his soul, lips looping into a massive grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He's an artist, creates stunning melodies and lyrics that'll stay with people forever and if _this_ , if _these_ songs _he_ wrote about Liam, _all for Liam_ , has some kind of impact on the man stood in front of him then it makes every little struggle, every little doubt he's ever had, worth while. 

( Zayn feels like he's won a grammy award, just by having Liam's love for the album. )

"C'mon." Zayn says, nodding towards the bathroom. "Let's get cleaned up, yeah?"

Liam stares blankly at him for a second before he's spinning Zayn around by his hips, capturing his lips in a quick peck. "If you think I'm done with you, you have another thing coming, Malik."

Zayn's lips part and he raises a brow, head tilting to the side as his eyes drift towards the stairs and when Liam's head slants forward, eyes telling him the answer, Zayn steps out of his jeans, removes his shoes and rushes towards them with come trickling down his thighs. He even stubs his toe against the bookshelf as he goes, spitting profanity after profanity and he flips Liam the bird when Liam's laughter rings in his ears, glancing over his shoulder.

"That's my boy," Liam smiles fondly, rubbing at the scruff tainting his jaw. 

"I love you, _Leeyum_ , I love you forever," Zayn exclaims as he starts climbing the staircase, gesturing for Liam to follow.

( Zayn hopes Liam'll eat him out so he can record the dirty sounds on his phone and use it as background noises in a future track. )

They're freaks beneath expensive silk sheets, lovers behind closed doors where the cameras can't see, fools for each other when they're high and when they're sober.

Together, they take over the world, day by day, month by month, year by year. Just like they were always meant to because there's this little thing called fate and maybe, just maybe, they both believe in it now.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](http://zzenturies.tumblr.com/)


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